The people’s cheers were all choked back into their stomachs…
Jing Hengbo was in excellent spirits, smiling to Master Mu: “Are these your people? You switched the actors? Truly a brilliant plan! And brilliant people! Where did you find such brilliant people?”
But Master Mu showed slight surprise, watching “Tian Qi” for a long moment before shaking his head: “No, these aren’t my people.”
Jing Hengbo was stunned, wondering how there could be others helping her. Master Mu continued: “They seem to have no ill intent. Let’s observe and adapt.”
Then came another drumbeat—the fourth act, encountering Pei Shu at Tianhui Valley.
The Queen began her warbling first, saying Pei Shu was “originally a demon king reborn, inflicting punishment and harm, fallen to dusty earth.” She called herself “I am naturally melancholy and sickly, seeking only a kindred spirit to share one spring.” Then with delicate eyebrows, she leaned sorrowfully against the door, saying “Tianhui Valley’s mist darkens the sky sadly, the path of exhaustion makes traveling difficult.” Finally deciding: “Youth has always admired youth and beauty, heaven-born famous flowers await your picking,” settling on a beauty trap to seduce Pei Shu.
The crowd regained interest, waiting to see how the “Queen” would seduce Pei Shu.
Jing Hengbo stroked her chin, thinking of Pei Shu’s initial gray mouse appearance—seduce him? Wouldn’t that affect one’s appetite? When the character came on stage, they should respect the original work, right? Wear a whole gray mouse skin?
The “Queen” stopped before “Tianhui Valley,” singing: “Eyes full of gloomy wind, bleak and miserable, everywhere poisonous swamps make travel hard, suddenly seeing a youth descending from heaven…”
Suddenly came a great shout like spring thunder bursting: “Won’t stop until I kick you to death!”
With a whoosh, someone leaped down from above the curtain, silver cloak flowing like a waterfall, striking with his fist in mid-air straight at the “Queen’s” head.
The audience below thought this was part of the play and hadn’t expected to see martial arts, cheering loudly.
But Jing Hengbo stared in shock: “Oh no! This is the rhythm of beating someone to death!”
That fist created tiger-like wind, making the “Queen’s” hair ornaments askew—this wasn’t acting!
Pei Shu was truly enraged. Hearing those unbearable lyrics, he couldn’t wait for them to finish before leaping out. In his fury, he wanted to punch this wretch to death with one blow. This angry punch could shatter a person’s skull.
Suddenly a gentle breeze arose from the side of the stage, pushing the “Queen” backward. Pei Shu’s punch struck the stage boards with a thunderous crash, splitting a large hole.
The audience below still thought it was martial performance and hadn’t expected such spectacular effects, cheering to the heavens.
Pei Shu snorted angrily and turned his head. This dramatic pose silenced the crowd below, then erupted again.
This time it was jeering.
Pei Shu’s face was red and white—he couldn’t apply stage makeup, so Meng Potian had volunteered to help him paint, naturally harboring no good intentions. She’d painted him a monkey-butt red face, but his forehead was snow-white, and she’d drawn a “King” character on his brow. Rather than a handsome young marshal, he clearly looked like a white-eyed tiger, a female tiger at that.
Jing Hengbo nearly laughed herself into a stitch, leaning on Master Mu’s wheelchair wiping tears, giggling: “This look… good lord… Pei Shu will die of anger when he sees… wait…” She suddenly stared wide-eyed: “This couldn’t actually be Pei Shu, could it?”
On stage, Pei Shu was completely unaware—he hadn’t seen his own makeup. Time was short and Meng Potian had hastily pushed him out. Hearing the commotion below, he felt quite proud and waved at Jing Hengbo’s direction.
“Good lord,” Jing Hengbo was dumbfounded. “It really is him…”
But when Pei Shu saw her leaning on Master Mu’s wheelchair, the hanging-eyed tiger immediately became a mountain-descending tiger. He snorted angrily and glared at the “Queen” opposite.
According to the script, he couldn’t kill this wretch and had to perform a scene.
The “Queen” now trembled, nearly wetting herself—while others couldn’t see the truth and were cheering, she was the one involved, facing this “Pei Shu’s” killing intent and murderous aura directly. How could she endure it?
Seeing her about to collapse, Pei Shu had to step forward, propping his stage spear to support her. Unable to sing opera, he simply shouted: “Who are you? Are you the Great Wilderness Queen Jing Hengbo?”
The “Queen” was pale as death, trembling and unable to answer. Pei Shu growled quietly: “Sing quickly! Don’t show seductive behavior! Don’t seduce me!”
But the poor Queen’s lyrics were precisely seductive enticement. How could she improvise on the spot? She could only tremble and answer: “This slave…”
“Don’t say ‘this slave’!”
“This humble concubine…”
“Don’t say ‘humble concubine’!”
“…I.”
“Right! Don’t tremble, don’t cry! Don’t soften your waist, don’t cast seductive glances! Speak loudly with firm tone!”
“I…” The poor female actor, under the demon king’s gaze, gritted her teeth and declared loudly: “I am she!”
“Ah!” Pei Shu showed a shocked expression, immediately clasped his hands and bowed: “So Your Majesty graces us with your presence! Your Majesty eliminated evil priests, saved the people, destroyed wealthy families, resisted the powerful—wise and mighty, benevolent in all directions, additionally possessing an orchid heart and keen wisdom, unparalleled in talent and beauty. Though Shu dwells in remote Tianhui Valley, I have long heard of this! My heart yearns with admiration! Seeing you today, your reputation is well-deserved! Please accept Shu’s bow!”
He bowed slightly, but directed it past the actor toward Jing Hengbo’s direction.
Jing Hengbo held her chin, thinking this fellow was taking another opportunity to confess!
The people blinked their eyes… this plot seemed somewhat wrong. Wasn’t the Queen supposed to seduce Pei Shu? How was it that without a single word, the young marshal had “trembled with awe and bowed in submission”? Still speaking constantly of being conquered by the Queen’s glorious deeds—where was the seduction? The enticement? The fragrant erotic scenes?
On stage, the “Queen” trembled: “Beloved minister, please rise…”
Pei Shu had already straightened, thinking the words “beloved minister” were quite good while secretly regretting the wrong person was saying them. If Little Bobo had spoken, how wonderful it would be. Besides her, who else was worthy of calling him “beloved minister”?
Of course, if “beloved minister” were upgraded to “husband” or “lord” and such, it would be supremely wonderful.
“Your Majesty!” Pei Shu declared loudly: “Shu wishes to devote himself to Your Majesty’s command, to join hands with Your Majesty, sweep through enemy strongholds, compete for the Great Wilderness, and share the world!”
Finished, he prompted the “Queen”: “Quickly say: ‘This is also my wish, I desire to join hands with you for the world!'”
The actor had to straighten up and declare loudly: “This is also my wish—I desire to join hands with you for the world!”
A seductive romantic scene had become a patriotic oath scene. The people gaped, not knowing whether to cheer or jeer.
Backstage, gongs and drums crashed urgently. Pei Shu shouted to the audience: “Today you’ve agreed to me!” and somersaulted back off stage.
The audience looked at each other in confusion. Only Jing Hengbo understood, spitting: “Agreed to your sister!”
The “Queen” on stage shook for a long time. The fifth act, capturing Yu and recruiting Ying Bai, was about to begin.
The “Queen” finally collected herself and began warbling: “The Great Wilderness also has talent among wine drinkers, jade-faced dragon rider on night-bright white.” Saying he had “bedside beauties new every night, picking flowers everywhere without staining his lapel.” Also saying: “Tired of the golden hall’s romance, better to drain one cup of wine.” Deciding to “let famous flowers naturally captivate famous generals, replace the new person with the old.”
This was the rhythm of getting Ying Bai drunk and offering herself. The audience immediately grew excited again.
Still urgent drumbeats. The female actor was quite surprised—according to the script, this should be a garden meeting with Ying Bai, with melodious strings and bamboo while sharing wine.
There was no choice—the theater troupe’s people had all been knocked out, with no one to play music. Meng Potian was handling props, costumes, staging, lighting, sound, directing, acting, and extras all at once. She only knew how to beat drums…
Jing Hengbo listened to the drumbeat, wondering if Ying Bai had also mixed in? Was he also playing himself?
Urgent drumbeats as blue-robed Ying Bai stepped forward, wine pot in one hand, wine cup in the other, with elegant bearing.
His appearance drew cheers from everyone.
Setting aside everything else, his makeup was much more proper than Pei Shu’s. He hadn’t applied much face paint but still looked handsome and refreshing.
The “Queen” especially saw clearly, feeling that person’s eyes were as clear and intoxicating as wine.
She silently cheered, but understood this wasn’t from the theater troupe either—ordinary people never had such eyes.
Though this person didn’t have the oppressive presence of the earlier “Pei Shu,” the cold, heavy aura around him inspired no less fear and reluctance to approach.
According to the plot, she and Ying Bai would drink wine under the moon in the Zhanyu palace garden. Wine doesn’t intoxicate—people intoxicate themselves. After some flirtation and drunken passion, Ying Bai would also become the “Queen’s” tent guest.
Anyway, in this script, all the men around the Queen were seduced by her—the only difference was the method of seduction.
The man opposite seemed to look at her yet also not look, saying flatly: “Perform.”
She immediately shivered and had to reach out to take Ying Bai’s wine pot, leaning against his shoulder while singing: “Three thousand garden scenes like paintings, Changmen’s green tiles and moonlit towers. I urge you to drink the wine in your cup—youth and beauty are in their prime.”
While arching her back, raising her glowing face, her arm hooking toward “Ying Bai’s” elbow, she sang melodiously: “Commander, let’s drink a double cup.”
Below, Jing Hengbo narrowed her eyes, smiling: “This is the rhythm of drinking matrimonial cups right from the start. Could this Ying Bai still be the theater troupe’s original?”
“Ying Bai” took the wine cup. The crowd grew excited and clamorous, shouting: “Drink mouth to mouth!” “Drink double cups!” “Touch her! Touch her!”
Just as the woman was 0.01 centimeters from touching “Ying Bai’s” elbow, “Ying Bai” flicked his finger. The actor’s body stiffened and froze.
She was now in a slightly leaning back, head tilted, waist bent at thirty degrees graceful pose. Frozen like this, she seemed to be deliberately displaying excellent waist work. The audience immediately erupted in wild cheering, praising: “Good waist strength!”
“The Queen has good waist strength!”
“No wonder she can handle seven men in one night!”
“Such a woman, wolf-like and tiger-like, absorbing essence and energy—we couldn’t handle her, haha…”
Master Mu’s face was dark as water, his arm slightly raising. Jing Hengbo pressed down on his arm: “Don’t.”
Master Mu sighed softly: “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have advised you to endure. These people deserve death. Even if there’s trouble after killing them, we’ll find ways to deal with it later.”
“These are ignorant masses,” Jing Hengbo said. “Having heard Ming Yan’an’s slander and instigation, they’re convinced I’m promiscuous and shameless, coming to seize their homeland and destroy their peaceful life. Their hearts are full of hatred for me—how could they give me any pleasant words? What use is killing them? Can you kill these dozens or hundreds here and also kill the entire city? If anyone should be killed, it should be Ming Yan’an. Of course,” she narrowed her eyes with a slight smile, “after I finish watching what this play is all about, I’ll definitely give these fools a good tormenting later.”
Beside her, Chai Yu had been looking uncomfortable, but hearing this, his expression showed slight surprise as he glanced at her.
On stage, Ying Bai casually withdrew his arm from the female actor’s grasp and glanced down at the audience.
His gaze was like cold lightning, striking like a sword. Those who saw it felt their hearts skip a beat, and the frivolous words gradually died away.
Ying Bai held his wine cup, pacing on stage. He didn’t sing, only chanted in long tones, his voice beautifully mellow and distant like mild intoxication, yet carrying slight coolness—like the mood of walking in snow while drinking heated wine.
The crowd involuntarily quieted, listening silently.
He said: “Cannot tell of a lifetime of gold spears and iron horses, snow burying bones and blood staining sand. Cannot speak of heart’s tangled concerns, heart without fixed place, person at world’s end. Cast aside the golden armor, paint a landscape scroll. The brush tip has feeling, voice grows mute.”
“Beautiful lines,” Jing Hengbo sighed. “I don’t understand, yet feel the bleakness entering my heart.”
Master Mu silently glanced at her.
He said: “I see that woman in her prime years, I see that woman’s face like flowers. Most precious is a heart like warm jade, reflecting the sky’s rainbow across ten thousand li.”
Jing Hengbo pressed her lips, thinking that woman, even if flower-like and jade-beautiful, was now just wild grass in Black Water Marsh.
Master Mu silently glanced at her again.
He said: “Since ancient times, human hearts scheme and plan, no match for frequent calculations. Flies camp and dogs scurry everywhere, no need to understand preparing for rainy days.”
Jing Hengbo’s fingers trembled as she slightly closed her eyes. Human hearts scheme and calculate endlessly, with no end in sight.
Master Mu narrowed his eyes. Chai Yu looked at her, then him, then at him on stage.
He said: “Don’t blame him for having a heart like iron, a handful of blood in farewell before the court. Good days and fine nights don’t last long, in the end failing the world’s romance.”
Jing Hengbo’s whole body grew cold, trembling involuntarily. Master Mu reached out to grasp her hand, but she withdrew as if stung by a needle.
Master Mu’s hand stopped in mid-air. After a long moment, he slowly drew it back.
He paced on stage. The full audience wasn’t spectators but his subjects. All his subjects were silent, seeming to accompany him falling into endless vast wind and snow.
He said: “Quiet and lonely golden palace, cold and clear jade-illuminated palace, miserable and sorrowful forms of all beings, foolishly lost, two hearts together.”
Her palms were ice cold, yet she raised her hand in confusion to touch her burning face, not knowing if what burned was fire or the heart’s current state of pain reaching foolish bewilderment.
Sixteen overlapping characters, feelings also overlapping.
He stopped, the wine pot in his hand slowly tilting—the gesture of pouring wine as offering.
The pot actually contained real wine. A clear stream flowed out, wine fragrance spreading, making everyone seem intoxicated.
His voice was distant: “Wind swept the ornate hall’s high eaves, snow covered the jade towers and golden palaces. Thirty thousand li of heaven and earth in one bell, all things confused, body in dreams.”
Jing Hengbo suddenly rushed forward.
Master Mu caught her in time.
The “Ying Bai” on stage raised his hand pointing from afar, directly at this direction. Jing Hengbo was like being immobilized from a distance, completely unable to move.
She stared fixedly at that “Ying Bai,” but he turned his head away, facing the “Queen” on stage.
At this moment, the audience awakened as if from dreams, only then remembering the “Queen” was still frozen in her dramatic backward lean. How long had this been? This waist strength was truly world-shocking!
Some people noticed the actor was trembling slightly all over, sweat soaking through her clothes. Even through thick stage makeup, they could see her flushed face.
“Ying Bai” flicked his finger, and she could move again. Just as she was about to fall backward, he swept his sleeve, moving her throne to face away from the audience and pushing her into the seat.
He declared in long tones: “Your Majesty’s divine skill—Ying Bai submits. This life I wish to gallop through Your Majesty’s territory, dedicating myself utterly until death.”
The audience below erupted in uproar—what was happening with this play?
The earlier smugness and abuse now seemed absurd. The “famous generals” weren’t seduced at all, but completely “bowed in submission” because of the Queen’s “brilliant wisdom and might.” How was this different from plays praising the imperial court’s great king?
Jing Hengbo’s eyes flashed. Though “Ying Bai’s” last two sentences were formulaic, his tone was profound and heart-stirring, especially the final four characters—hearing them, her heart leaped.
She still wanted to go up, but Ying Bai tossed his wine pot and turned to leave. With urgent drumbeats, before the “Queen” could recover to sing her lines, someone emerged from the side of the stage—clearly in royal robes and golden crown, dressed as a clan leader.
The audience below exclaimed: “The King!” and knelt en masse.
This was Great Wilderness custom—though only an actor, he represented royalty, so naturally all who saw should bow to show respect for royal authority.
Master Mu suddenly said: “Our person!”
On stage, “Ming Yan’an” mounted the platform. Without singing or speaking, his face solemn, he strode toward the somewhat bewildered “Queen,” dropped to both knees like a toppling golden mountain and jade pillar, and kowtowed!
The audience below cried “Ah!” in unison—all the people were stunned.
The female actor trembled all over in shock, wanting to stand, but seemed pressed down by some force, unable to rise and forced to accept “Ming Yan’an’s” obeisance.
But now her seat had changed position, facing away from the crowd, so that Ming Yan’an faced the audience while bowing directly toward Jing Hengbo.
The actor playing “Ming Yan’an” was also someone who couldn’t act, saying stiffly: “Your humble minister Ming Yan’an greets the Black Water Queen!”
The people looked at each other in alarm. The “Ming Yan’an” declared loudly: “The Queen is appointed by the imperial court—legitimate royal authority. Now that she graces Daobei with her presence, rightfully the royal power should return to its place. This humble minister failed to welcome you from afar—please forgive my transgression, Your Majesty!”
The actor was too stunned to speak. Ming Yan’an looked up, glaring at the people below: “This king has already knelt—how dare you not kneel to receive the Queen? You’re showing contempt for the Queen! Guards!”
A great shout from backstage: “Present!”
“Those who dare show contempt for the Queen and contempt for this king—execute them!”
“By your command!”
With a muffled bang, a powerful palm strike shot out, striking the front row of frivolous young men. They cried out and all collapsed unconscious.
These were the very people who had most viciously mocked and trampled on Jing Hengbo earlier.
Seeing those people unconscious on the ground, life or death unknown, the people were too frightened to make a sound and knelt en masse. “Ming Yan’an” moved quickly, rapidly producing a “jade seal” wrapped in yellow silk from his chest, offering it with both hands to the “Queen”: “How fortunate that Your Majesty graces Daobei—from now on ruling over all directions. The Daobei royal seal is here—please inspect it, Your Majesty!”
The “Queen” numbly reached out to accept it. Today’s script was completely beyond her control—she could only go with the flow.
As soon as she accepted it, “Ming Yan’an” immediately declared loudly: “Congratulations to Your Majesty! Congratulations to our Daobei! From now on royal authority returns to righteousness, Daobei is unified! First bow!”
He immediately kowtowed, and the people had to follow with a bow.
“Second bow!”
The people bowed again. The mass of people prostrated like grass across the ground.
People gathered from all sides, watching this scene with mouths agape in shock—what did this mean? Wasn’t today’s street performance supposed to humiliate the Queen? How had it become a scene of acknowledging a new master in public? Did this represent the clan leader’s intentions? Was the clan leader planning to submit?
Others who heard from afar looked at each other—had the clan leader already surrendered to the Queen?
Jing Hengbo crossed her arms, watching the people who had just been cursing her but were now kneeling to her.
These people avoided her gaze, faces full of resentful unwillingness, not knowing how this play had suddenly turned out this way.
Jing Hengbo smiled, thinking that now the ones wanting to spit blood should be different people, right?
“Third bow…” The “Ming Yan’an” on stage hadn’t completed his third bow when someone sternly shouted: “Don’t bow!”
A large group of officials rushed over like wolves and tigers, pulling people up and shouting: “Don’t bow! Don’t bow! What wild theater troupe dares insult the King!”
“Well, how strange,” Jing Hengbo laughed. “Wasn’t this theater troupe already here before? Haven’t they been performing for a long time? Aren’t all performances on your main street approved by Ming Yan’an? How did they suddenly become a wild troupe?” She clicked her tongue twice: “Though they are indeed wild—in the royal capital, in broad daylight, not far from the royal palace, singing lewd songs and performing vulgar skits. The government doesn’t care, the royal family ignores it, and the people cheer loudly. Such customs, such moral education, such sense of shame—tsk tsk, truly intoxicating!”
The group of officials’ faces flushed red. They had originally been ordered not to interfere with affairs here. This way, if Jing Hengbo became angry and enraged the people, getting beaten by the crowd, they could pretend not to know. Death by mob violence? That would only prove the Queen lacked popular support.
So they were late to learn that the script had gone wrong. Of course, there were also Ming Yan’an’s spies in the crowd, but they were responsible for inciting the people and hadn’t expected problems backstage. When they discovered backstage issues and sent people to investigate and call a halt, they were beaten back by mysterious masters inside.
“Everyone get up! Get up!” They ignored Jing Hengbo’s mockery, kicking people to their feet while giving meaningful looks to the crowd.
In the crowd, over ten people in civilian dress received the signal and suddenly drew knives, stabbing randomly at those beside them—
Injuring anyone randomly, then framing the Queen—angry people would still tear her apart!
Just then Jing Hengbo suddenly waved her hand.
With a “whoosh,” over ten people suddenly shot up from the crowd, stopping in mid-air.
The people all looked up to see those figures with stiff expressions and strange postures, struggling in the air as if suddenly lifted by invisible hands.
Then someone cried out in alarm: “Knives!”
Everyone now discovered that those suspended in mid-air all held knives!
The blades were drawn, gleaming coldly, and those people maintained stabbing postures.
Those who had been standing beside them, seeing the trajectory of the blades, all cried out and quickly retreated.
“They were going to kill! They were going to kill!”
Seeing things go wrong, the officials shouted: “They’re assassins planted by the Queen! The Queen wants to kill people…” They rushed forward, trying to destroy the evidence.
Jing Hengbo waved her hand again. With successive crashes, those plainclothes spies suddenly fell.
Master Mu flicked his fingers repeatedly, and several officials rushing forward cried out and stumbled into the crowd.
As the spies fell into the crowd, some reacted quickly and immediately shouted: “The Queen sent us to kill you…”
“Was it me?” Jing Hengbo sneered. “Your Shangyuan City has never had dealings with the outside world—you’re all born and raised in the city. Whether someone’s an outsider or local, you should be able to tell, right?”
Indeed, an elder in the crowd looked carefully and exclaimed: “Aren’t you the second son of the Wang family? Didn’t they say you recently joined the palace guard?”
Various surprised voices arose from the crowd:
“Isn’t this Third Master Liu?”
“This is Brother Zhang from the front guard, right?”
“Oh my, this one looks familiar—the shopkeeper from the Li family’s dried goods store outside the front gate!”
…
“Wang family’s second son, Liu family’s Third Master, front guard Brother Zhang…” Jing Hengbo sneered. “If they were all my spies, your Shangyuan City would already be mine.”
Everyone fell silent, unable to argue. These people were all locals, many watched grow up by everyone, and only today did they learn they were palace spies.
Moreover, these spies had been in Shangyuan for decades, while the Queen had only arrived in the Great Wilderness last year. She couldn’t predict the future—how could she have planted decades-old spies in Shangyuan early on?
Someone realized this and whispered: “Could it be the King wants to kill us? Why would the King want to kill us?”
“Why?” Jing Hengbo’s sharp ears immediately picked up: “To frame me, of course. If several of you die, it’ll naturally be blamed on me. Then with popular anger, you’d be just right to tear me apart, hehe.”
“Impossible!” someone shouted. “The King has no reason to kill us—stop your slander!”
“Right, impossible!” Jing Hengbo smiled sweetly. “The people are more important than the ruler, after all. What are his throne and Shangyuan City compared to your precious little lives, right?”
Instantly the crowd fell silent like a doused fire. Except for a few dim-witted ones still shouting “you’re lying, impossible,” the rest fell into contemplation.
The people weren’t fools either. The clan leader had gone to great lengths to attack the Queen, even staging such vulgar plays and having officials notify every household to watch—clearly very attached to power. So to completely destroy the Queen and incite popular rage, impersonating the Queen’s spies and planting assassins to kill people and frame her wasn’t impossible.
This was the usual method and mentality of those in power.
The people on the street no longer showed their earlier arrogance and frivolity, all glaring angrily at the officials. Some wanted to curse but seeing the bright steel blades in those people’s hands, they shrank their necks and shut up.
Regardless, they were still Ming Yan’an’s subjects and didn’t dare openly rebuke him. But their mindset was different now, thinking that as common people, they were indeed just chess pieces in the rulers’ hands—used when needed, discarded when not. How ridiculous that they’d made such a fuss, no wonder people called them ignorant masses.
With this thought, they lost all enthusiasm. The crowd silently dispersed. When passing before Jing Hengbo, they all hung their heads, embarrassed to look at her.
Only now did they remember that their earlier trampling and abuse of the Queen had been nothing but a joke, and she had even saved them, yet they didn’t dare say thanks. Thinking carefully, their faces burned with shame.
Several elders, avoiding the soldiers and officials, bowed to Jing Hengbo from afar: “Regardless of everything else, we thank the Queen for today’s life-saving grace. We will never again dare to follow the crowd and blame the Queen.”
“A good ruler is not one who’s skilled at using the people, but one who’s skilled at working for the people,” Jing Hengbo said with rare seriousness. “You can be obedient subjects, but not ignorant masses. I hope to encourage each other with you gentlemen.”
The elders fell silent, bowed again to Jing Hengbo, and quietly dispersed.
Jing Hengbo sighed. Shangyuan was too isolated—her glorious deeds couldn’t reach here, otherwise these people’s hostility shouldn’t be so deep.
She wondered how Ming Yan’an had demonized her—otherwise common people only cared about having enough to eat, not about who ruled them.
As the crowd dispersed, the stage opposite was empty. A group of soldiers rushed toward the stage. The actor playing “Ming Yan’an” made a gesture to Master Mu, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.
Jing Hengbo remembered the earlier performers of “Pei Shu, Ying Bai, and Tian Qi,” her heart stirring as she also rushed toward the stage, but was blocked by an escorting general who said coldly: “Your Majesty, our king has been waiting for you long—please proceed to the palace immediately.”
“I have some friends over there I want to see,” Jing Hengbo pushed past him.
The man blocked her again, sneering: “Your Majesty means those who just impersonated actors and slandered our king? They’ve already been captured by our palace’s consecrated masters and sent to the palace dungeons for interrogation. When Your Majesty enters the palace, you’ll naturally see them.” He sneered: “Your Majesty might even have a reunion in the dungeons.”
Jing Hengbo looked up and stared at him.
This arrogant man, meeting her gaze, couldn’t help shuddering all over.
“Last time,” Jing Hengbo pointed at him. “Don’t test my patience.”
She continued toward the stage. The man’s eyebrows shot up, malice appearing in his eyes as he reached out to block her again: “I told you not to…”
“Whoosh!” Suddenly his entire body flew out.
The soldiers only felt fierce wind overhead. Looking up, they saw that large body flying over their heads like a sack, crashing head-first into a roadside stall with a bang.
Everyone stared dumbly at the man, legs pointing skyward, twitching.
They stared back at Jing Hengbo—the Queen hadn’t moved at all, her hands still tucked in her sleeves, smiling as if watching a play.
Everyone’s eyes showed whirlpool-like dizziness—what happened? They’d clearly seen the Queen hadn’t even moved a finger…
“Those who disrespect the Heaven-mandated Queen naturally receive Heaven’s punishment,” Master Mu said lightly.
Everyone shivered and moved farther from Jing Hengbo, their attitudes much more respectful now.
Shangyuan City was isolated—right and wrong, good and bad were all according to Ming Yan’an. Ming Yan’an said the Queen was incompetent, promiscuous and shameless, rising to power only through beauty. These soldiers and civilians believed it as truth and were disrespectful.
Only now did they realize they’d been blind.
This time when Jing Hengbo walked toward the stage, no one dared stop her. But after just two steps, she saw someone wrapped in red robes with painted face—red and white makeup making the “King” character on his forehead look majestic—striding from behind the stage. As he walked, he casually pulled out the general who’d crashed into the stall. Jing Hengbo was surprised at his kindness when she saw him raise his hand and whoosh—that unlucky general was sent thousands of miles away…
Jing Hengbo sighed—no need to ask, this Pei Shu was the genuine article.
“Little Bobo!” Baolong had already forgotten their earlier quarrel and rushed toward her excitedly: “How was my performance?”
“Very good, very good,” Jing Hengbo had matters on her mind and answered perfunctorily, asking urgently: “Where are those two people?”
“Who?” Pei Shu blinked innocently.
“The amateur actors who performed with you. Ying Bai and Tian Qi. Who played them?”
“Actors,” Pei Shu immediately stopped being violent, grinning innocently: “Who else could it be?”
Jing Hengbo glared at him, quite troubled by this fellow’s seemingly hot-tempered but actually cunning nature. She had to ask: “Fine, actors. Where are those two actors?”
But Pei Shu was unhappy, his face stern: “You don’t ask how I worked so hard to get in here, but only remember others. Aren’t you too biased?”
“You’re perfectly fine here—what should I ask about?” Jing Hengbo said irritably. “But I need to know who helped me, right?”
“Oh, they’re random passersby I hired as co-stars,” Pei Shu answered carelessly, reaching out to take her arm. “Don’t bother with that nonsense. Come on, I’ll go to the palace with you. That old bastard Ming Yan’an uses such despicable methods—who knows what he’ll do? Can’t just let this cripple accompany you.”
“What are you saying?” Jing Hengbo found this grating and pulled away his paw. “Can you learn to speak like a human?”
“You’re not acting human either!” Baolong’s face changed like a child’s in June weather, his thick eyebrows shooting up. “You protect this pretty boy all the time but can’t see me working hard and staying busy for you? For you, I even applied this uncomfortable makeup and personally performed for those lowly people, submitting to you before hundreds—you can’t see that? You only see those not in front of you, or those who just sit there motionless in front of you, useless and probably needing your protection—pretty boys?”
“Stop calling everyone pretty boys,” Jing Hengbo was amused by his anger. “Honey, you’re also a pretty boy!”
“Then I’m the pretty boy you’re biased against,” Pei Shu ground his teeth audibly. “Jing Hengbo, if only your heart were as charming and gentle as your face looks. Or do you only harden your heart toward me while giving all your charm and gentleness to others?”
Jing Hengbo glanced around—oh ho, the soldiers nearby were all listening with pricked ears, practically drooling.
Would there be new rumors in Shangyuan tomorrow? “Love rivalry home run—pretty boys fighting over the Queen in the street?”
She felt a headache coming on.
People like Baolong who hadn’t experienced love—before enlightenment, all women were dirt; after enlightenment, the whole world was dirt except that one woman was human. Being chosen by him—mutual love was fortune, unrequited love was disaster.
“Fine, fine, I’m charming and gently thanking you,” she dragged the fellow aside. “Pei Pei, you worked so hard, mwah mwah.”
“I heard mwah mwah means kissing,” Pei Shu stared at her lips and said suddenly.